


All In His Head

by xwingsandarchers



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Migraine, Mild Gore, Past Drug Addiction, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 02:57:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18217271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwingsandarchers/pseuds/xwingsandarchers
Summary: Klaus has a migraine. Again. Ben is worried, but Klaus refuses to tell the others.He really should've listened to Ben.





	All In His Head

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Umbrella Academy for inspiring me to finish my first fic in more than a year lmao  
> I'm trying to improve my writing so comments are very much appreciated! Enjoy~

“If Luther bangs on my door again I’m gonna…” Klaus slurs, face pressed into the pillow.

“Gonna what?” Ben asks. His arms are folded, eyebrows raised, but he still keeps his voice hushed. Doesn’t want to add to the cacophony Klaus is already dealing with.

Klaus just sighs.

“Exactly. Look, you either gotta go down there and bear it or you could - oh, I don’t know, _tell them_ you’re suffering?”

Klaus is still for a moment, shivering still despite the covers pulled up to his ears, and Ben dares to hope he’s managed to sleep, even though it’ll be interrupted in a moment again by Luther. But no such luck. Klaus practically whimpers as he curls a heavy arm towards his face and pushes himself up, eyes still squeezed shut. He groans but manages to shift onto his side in one pained movement then, a hand pressed against his head, he slides both legs off the bed and plants his bare feet on the floor. He sits up too fast and immediately crumbles over on himself, clutching both hands to his head. “Shiiiiit…” he croaks.

Ben stands, his hands hovering uselessly; Klaus hasn’t the energy to keep him tangible, and he can’t blame him. “Hey man, just take it slow,” he says. “Or look, if you try conjure me for a minute I can go and tell them you’re not okay and you’re not coming down—”

“No,” Klaus says, waving a clumsy hand towards the floor and grabbing his pink robe to pull around himself. “’M going. Only way to get them off my back.”

Ben’s eyebrows crease upwards, but he doesn’t say anything as Klaus struggles to get to his feet. He feels around for the bedside table, eyes closed and head low, uses it to leverage himself up, and very nearly collapses back down. He hunches over and presses his knuckle to his mouth for a moment, fighting down the urge to puke again. Ben reaches out instinctively to keep him on his feet, but his hands fall right through. He’s glad Klaus has his eyes closed and can’t see the group of mutilated men looming over him, their bloody, mangled hands reaching into every inch of Klaus’ body like he’s theirs. He can certainly hear them though, their moans and howls. Klaus gasps in a breath at one particularly loud shriek of his name, balances on wobbly feet with his hand white-knuckled on the drawers. “This is ridiculous,” Ben hisses. “You can barely stand. How are you gonna get all the way downstairs?”

Klaus ignores him entirely and marches forward before he’s ready, overconfident, staggering into the door. He cringes as it creaks, but steps into the corridor. Ben sighs and follows, walking through the wall to get in front. One hand braced against the wall, the other buried in his hair, barely daring to open his eyes more than a squint, Klaus presses stubbornly on.

The corridor is, of course, full. Since Klaus has been sober, the spirits seem like they’ve quadrupled in both number and volume and it’s enough to drive even Ben mad, and they don’t even pay him any attention; he can’t imagine being the one they’re all screaming at. “Can’t you guys leave for five freaking minutes?” Ben asks as he has countless times before and, as with all the other times, they ignore him. Klaus has no choice but to walk through them, wincing every time. Ben has no idea how Klaus hasn’t given in to drugs again, but he would never say it aloud. Walking through the empty corridor for Klaus is walking through a mob, one full of angry, screaming, bloody dead people who don’t like to be ignored by the one living person on Earth who can see them. He has no time alone, no privacy, no peace nor quiet. No wonder it’s causing his brain to fry.

Klaus falls.

He catches himself on his hands and knees, but the movement must be agony and he lets out half a broken sob before he stifles it. Ben kneels beside him, hates that he can’t at least lay a hand on his shaking back for support, and waits for him to get his breath back.

“Please, Klaus, let me go and tell them what’s going on,” he says as Klaus pants.

Klaus slumps back and rests his head against the wall beside him, looking utterly defeated. His eyes are shining with unshed tears, bloodshot, and his whole body is wracked with tremors under his fluffy thick pink robe. His knee is scraped from the fall, but he doesn’t notice. He gazes at Ben, glassy-eyed, smiles sadly. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, so unlike the usual Klaus. “I don’t think I could manifest you if I tried.”

Ben sighs, nods. “Well just- just take it easy. Slow and steady the rest of the way, then back to bed soon as it’s over. Or you could tell them what’s going on, you—”

Klaus waves a hand right through Ben’s shoulder and shifts. He clumsily pulls his knees underneath him again, braces himself, and pushes himself upright against the wall. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then starts off again.

It takes them far longer than it should to get to the living room. The first corridor is nothing compared to the stairs and Klaus almost topples no less than three times on the way down there, to Ben’s great panic, but by some miracle he keeps hold of the banister and gets to the bottom in one piece. If you could call Klaus’ condition one piece. He pauses before stepping into the living room. He straightens up with a wince, wraps his robe tighter round himself, forces his face to let go of its tension, grits his teeth to stop shivering. Ben watches from the side, frowning.

Klaus steps in and it’s as though there’s nothing wrong. Ben only manages to spot the clumsiness in his steps, his tiny winces at the bright windows and at the spirits all crowded around, but their siblings are none the wiser.

“Finally!” Luther booms, and Ben cringes for Klaus when he doesn’t himself.

“Ever so sorry, m’dears,” Klaus says easily, mock-curtsying. Once the others look away with an eyeroll or five, he presses himself firmly into the corner of the sofa, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his head on them.

“So you’re not gonna tell them?” Ben says, eyebrows raised.

Klaus doesn’t answer.

“Now that we’re all here,” Luther says pointedly, “we can start.”

Diego’s in the corner flinging a knife into the air over and over again, and even he doesn’t notice Klaus. Allison, Five and Vanya are only looking at Luther, none of them paying anymore attention to Klaus, as if he hadn’t been curled up and sobbing from sheer agony just last night.

To be fair, he puts on a good act.

Ben supposes that’s because it’s all Klaus has done for years.

As soon as Luther starts talking about whatever mission they’re planning, one of the spirits begins shrieking. Screaming at the top of her lungs like she’s dying all over again. Ben peers over the crowd of them and spots her, a young woman in the corner with her entire chest and left arm ripped off in a gory mess of flesh and bone and blood.

Ben turns back to Klaus, and his heart breaks as Klaus is just watching Luther with barely a reaction. Like the shrieking isn’t deafening, like he can actually focus on Luther through the pain, like it’s all okay. But Ben sees his nails digging deep into his wrist and the clenching of his jaw. “I wouldn’t look at her if I were you,” Ben warns. Klaus nods minutely and lowers his gaze.

The new spirits around them have started to notice Klaus; they always do. It’s like they’re drawn to him, no matter where he is, and now is no exception. As soon as they realise he can see them they start their usual spiel of screaming his name, close and crowded enough around him to make even Ben feel claustrophobic from where he stands. They scream for Klaus to help them, to explain what’s going on, to do things for them, to blame him, or just to scream, like the woman is still doing.

Klaus does nothing, but Ben knows by now how much it terrifies him, despite him still staying sober and having to deal with it all the time now. It takes a strength Ben admires more than anything, but now, with these migraines coming almost every week, he’s not sure if Klaus can keep it all together.

Ben shoves his way over and kneels in front of him, blocking his view of everyone, including his siblings. “It’s gonna be okay. Soon as this migraine is gone you can listen to music, drown them all out, yeah?”

Klaus doesn’t react. The woman has made her way over to them.

She shrieks in Klaus’ face, tears her one hand through his body, asks him unintelligible questions in a language Ben doesn’t even recognise. Klaus stares at the floor. Clenches his fists on his knees. He’s close to his breaking point and Ben has no idea what will happen when he hits it.

“Klaus?” Vanya says then from beside them. Ben turns, and they’re all watching Klaus expectantly.

“Klaus, they want you,” he says, trying to pat his knee but his hand just phases through.

Klaus’ head has drooped and his eyes are unseeing, gazing blankly at the floor as he breathes slowly and controlled. He doesn’t notice them, utterly deaf and blind to everything but the spirits and the pain until Luther yells, “Klaus!”

His head whips up and Ben winces. That must’ve hurt. But Klaus doesn’t react with more than a clenched jaw. “Yep?”

The others stare him down for a moment, and Ben has a bad feeling.

“Are you high?” Luther asks. Goddammit.

“What? I— No,” Klaus says, squinting again because of the light behind Luther’s head. Even Ben has to admit it’s not convincing, and he knows the truth.

“I thought you were over this, bro?” Diego says softly, disappointment etched on his face.

“I am! I’m totally clean!” Klaus’ voice cracks. He probably can’t even hear himself talking over the sounds of the spirits.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Allison says, “you haven’t paid attention this whole time, and you’ve been hidden in your room for hours.”

Klaus rubs a hand over his face. “Come on, guys, I’m not high. Diego, you know I’m telling the truth. You were there when I stopped - why would I wanna go through that again?” His voice is dripping with desperation and exhaustion that Ben wishes the others would acknowledge.

Diego shakes his head, hitting his palm with a knife. “Then why are you acting like you’re high?”

Klaus shrinks a little. Ben winces. Knows what’s coming. “I— I’m not.” Ben sighs.

“Come on, bro,” Diego says, turning away.

“I’m telling the truth, I swear,” Klaus says, unconvincingly.

“Prove it,” says Luther.

“I— what?”

“Prove it. Manifest Ben.”

Oh, fuck.

Klaus cringes and looks up at Ben. Ben shakes his head. “Don’t do it.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Klaus mumbles.

“So you’re high?”

“No!” Klaus buries his face in his hands. Takes a deep, shaky breath. The woman is still shrieking, her mouth only inches from his ear, furious that he won’t answer her. “If I manifest Ben can I leave this stupid meeting?”

“Klaus, no, that’s not a good idea,” Ben warns.

“Sure,” Luther says. “If you can do it.”

Klaus gets to his feet, sways where he stands, ignores the woman beside him, and faces Ben with steely determination in his bloodshot eyes.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he murmurs to his own hands.

“This is a terrible idea,” Ben says. “You told me yourself you couldn’t do it. Just tell them what’s really going on!”

“Shut up, Ben.” He grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, and Ben is the only one who knows it’s from agony, not effort. Klaus hisses, his breathing speeds up, his hands tremble and—

They start to glow.

“Stop it, Klaus,” Ben says as he feels the now-familiar cold of Klaus’ power wash over him and through him. The spirits around him disappear one by one, silencing the room but for his own voice and Klaus’ grunts. “This is too much - you’re gonna—”

“Ben,” comes Vanya’s voice.

He whips round, a deer in headlights, sees the others all staring at him, looks at his hands. They’re laced with blue, like Klaus’. Crap.

He turns back to Klaus just in time to see his eyes roll back in his head.

He hits the floor with a thud.

“Shit!” four of them say simultaneously.

Ben’s still there, but fading as fast as the blue of Klaus’ hands. He whips round to the others as the cold begins to wash away. “Listen, he has a migraine. Had it for the last two days and he gets them all the time now. He wouldn’t tell you, but now you know, so look out for him while I can’t!” He finishes _just_ as the spirits reappear around him and the cold is gone. Invisible again, but seeing. The spirits crowd Klaus’ unconscious body as fast as the other Hargreeves.

“Get _away_ from him,” Ben growls, pressing himself through the throng, watching the living.

“What the hell?” Diego says, staring at the spot Ben disappeared from and falling to his knees beside Klaus’ head. “Migraines? Why didn’t he tell us?” He hesitates, hands hovering, before easing his hands under Klaus’ shoulders to pull him up and rest him on his lap.

“Careful,” Five says, “he hit his head hard on the way down.”

Diego pulls off his thick leather glove and carefully feels for the back of Klaus’ head. His hand comes away bloody.

“Goddammit, Klaus,” Ben murmurs.

“Here, let me take him,” Luther says. Diego is defensive for a half second, then releases Klaus into Luther’s hold. He lifts him like he weighs nothing, his limbs weak as a ragdoll, his head lolling into Luther’s shoulder. “Someone grab Pogo and Grace, I’ll take him to medical.”

“I’ll do it,” Allison tells Diego before he has the chance to think about it. “You go with him.”

Diego nods gratefully and follows Luther out of the room with Five and Ben while Vanya and Allison head off in the other direction. Five teleports off to set up the room. Luther strides through the corridors, through dozens of ghosts none of them can see. They all leap towards the group, towards Klaus, all of them screaming his name with added urgency now that he can’t respond and Ben’s glad he’s not awake to see it. Even though he’s unconscious, not sleeping like he should be. He hopes he stays out for long enough to get _some_ rest.

When they get there only a half minute later the lights are on, the bed is wiped down, and Five is impatient.

Luther sets Klaus on the bed, carefully as the day he’d done the same for Allison. He rolls him onto his side, where he doesn’t move a muscle except to tremble. They can’t help but watch him for a moment, so unused to seeing him so still and quiet. Five is frowning at him like he’s an equation he can’t work out. Ben knows the feeling.

The room is full. Some of the spirits from the living room have followed them there, including the hysterical woman, but medical already had its fair share of a dozen or so corpses before they walked in. They turn and eye Klaus for a moment, drawn to him, but gradually most of them turn away, defeated once they realise he’s unconscious except for a few who take to standing beside the bed to call his name. Ben stays close by, glaring daggers at them but otherwise helpless. He’s tried to fight them away from Klaus countless times before, but nothing ever works. They always come back angrier and take it out on Klaus.

Diego clips a heart monitor to Klaus’ finger, far more gentle than Ben has seen him in a while, since the last time he’d been there when Klaus had ODed. He silences the slow beeps before they can start and passes a hand over his face with a huff. “This is all our fault,” he says. He pulls out two knives and fidgets with them just a little bit faster than usual as he stares down at Klaus, brows furrowed. Luther, pressing a cloth to the back of Klaus’ head, opens his mouth and Ben is sure neither he nor Diego will like what he’s going to say, but luckily Allison and Vanya choose then to enter, followed by Pogo and Grace.

Wordlessly, Pogo limps over to Klaus and inspects the wound with a wince. “That’ll need a few stitches,” he says, stepping away for Grace to take over. “What happened?”

“He passed out and hit his head,” Luther answers as Grace bustles around, grabbing syringes and a box. She disinfects the wound before returning to bustling around, weaving in and out of all but the ghosts. “Ben appeared and told us he had a migraine?”

Pogo frowns.

“He said he’s been getting them for a while, but he didn’t wanna tell us,” Diego says. He sits in a chair in front of Klaus and takes his hands in his. “I had no idea. We thought he was high,” he adds with a scowl.

“He looked like he was,” Luther says.

Diego turns to him. “Yeah. And he _wasn’t_. He told us he wasn’t and we didn’t believe him. Now he’s here getting stitches, because of us.”

“He could’ve come to us for help before it got this bad—”

“Yeah? Since when? I remember the last time he came to one of us for help and he ended up having to chase you around all night while you were getting high.”

Ben sighs. If Diego and Luther start fighting again with Klaus unconscious between them he’s gonna lose it.

“We fucked up,” Vanya says before Luther can open his mouth. Grace presses gently past her and situates herself behind Klaus. Diego looks away quickly as she injects something into his head a few times, then pulls out the needle and thread. “We fucked up, and it made Klaus feel like he couldn’t count on us. We can argue about it all we want but the fact is that Klaus _still_ needs our help, and we’re not getting anywhere by yelling at each other over him.”

Ben nods. At least Vanya has sense.

Pogo glances between Diego and Luther, unimpressed. “He’s been sober for three months now, yes?”

“That’s right,” Allison says as Diego and Luther continue to brood. “Three months to the day.”

Pogo nods. “I was concerned something like this would happen.” Grace starts stitching, and Diego turns his entire body away.

“What do you mean?” Five asks from where he’s leaning on a cabinet. “You know why he’s getting migraines?”

Pogo puts his hand on Klaus’ shoulder and sighs. “Not exactly. But, well, Master Klaus never had a chance to learn how to control his abilities. Reginald was… cruel to him. And it turned him away from ever wanting to learn them. I suspected it would be difficult for him to adjust so quickly, and it seems I was right.”

“So… if he learns how to control them, he’ll be okay?” Diego asks.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. There’s no evidence to even suggest he _will_ be able to control them - he has never been able to, and I cannot say whether it is because of a lack of training, or if it’s simply not possible.”

A silence falls over them all. Ben’s glad Klaus didn’t hear that. He doesn’t need anything else pushing him back towards drugs; the spirits are already almost too persuasive, he certainly doesn’t need to know that he might never be able to shut them up.

Grace works away, ever so slightly too fast to be human. Klaus doesn’t so much as stir, but his eyebrows have sunk into a slight frown. It won’t be long before the nightmares are back, Ben knows, but at least that means he hasn’t damaged something smashing his head on the floor. Pogo walks through him then to get to Klaus’ front. Diego raises his eyes to the ceiling when Pogo picks up a needle and an IV bag. He lifts Klaus’ arm, delicately rolls up the pink sleeve and glides the needle in expertly before fiddling with the bag. “Fluids and painkillers,“ he says to no one in particular. He sighs. “Though I doubt the painkillers will have much effect, what with his… old habits.”

Allison sighs. She’s leaning on the counter behind Klaus’ head, watching his still form. “I’m glad he has Ben,” she says. Ben blanches. It’s still so weird hearing the others talk about him, knowing he’s there, finally. “I’m glad they have each other. God only knows where he’d be if he had to rely on just us all these years.”

“Amen to that,” Five says. “Even though I missed the last twenty or so.”

“All done,” Grace announces with a smile, her hands bloody.

“Thanks, Mom,” Diego says as she turns to clean up.

“All he needs now is rest,” Pogo says. “He should stay here rather than his room, at least until he wakes up.”

“Someone should stay with him,” Vanya says. “Make sure he doesn’t wake up alone.”

“You guys go. I’ll stay with him, and- and Ben. Give him some peace and quiet,” Diego says. The others look like they want to stay, but they know Diego’s right. Even they can see now how Klaus isn’t relaxed; how his whole body still trembles, even in sleep, and the tension bleeding from his core turning his muscles to stone. They give him one last look, one last squeeze of his shoulder, or one last murmured assurance, and pile out of the door.

As Pogo starts to close the door, he turns back. “Tell us if anything happens. Otherwise, I’ll keep the others away.”

Diego nods, and Pogo steps out.

The spirits have calmed down marginally. Most of them ignore him now, unable to tell that Klaus can hear them when he’s unconscious, while the eager ones who followed them in surround Klaus and wait, only shrieking for his attention occasionally.

It’s quieter than normal, so Ben almost shits himself when Diego says his name.

“Ben? I don’t even know if you’re here or if you can hear me, or how any of this stuff works, but—” Diego swallows, glancing around himself. “If you _can_ hear me, I just wanna say thanks. For looking out for him all this time when we didn’t. And- and I’m sorry we didn’t believe him when he told us he can see you.”

Ben smiles. He waves a hand over Diego’s shoulder, just to see if he was somehow still a little bit tangible, but Diego doesn’t react. That’s alright. “No problem, Diego,” he says instead, knowing he can’t hear him.

Diego’s always been the most caring. He would do anything for any of his siblings, even Luther, but Ben knows he has a soft spot for Klaus. Always giving him lifts to make sure he knows where he is, being the only one to notice and care that he wasn’t okay after he time travelled. Hell, even Ben couldn’t get Klaus to open up like Diego had that day in the car. He was the only one who turned up any time he found out Klaus had ODed again.

Ben misses talking to him.

He watches now as Diego checks the monitors anxiously and checks the wound on Klaus’ head, before settling back in the chair right beside his head. He doesn’t know it, but he’s blocked spirits from Klaus’ view. When he wakes up, it won’t be to any of them in his face for the first time in a long time.

Ben perches himself on a table and waits.

* * *

Klaus only gets to sleep for an hour before the nightmares start. Ben sighs as Klaus starts to shift and murmur on the bed, his eyebrows furrowed. The spirits just don’t let him get a second of peace. They scream louder once they see him reacting and push their faces closer, pressing in on all sides, making him whimper.

Ben watches Diego. He knows that once the nightmares have started they won’t stop until Klaus is awake, but Diego doesn’t - none of the others even know he still gets nightmares. Ben knows that the only time Klaus has gotten a full night’s sleep in the past almost twenty years has been when he was so drunk or high that it didn’t wear off until the next day; that he hasn’t slept well even once since getting sober; that he hides the dark rings behind eyeliner and a smile; doesn’t let anyone know he’s terrified of the dark, pretends the dozen lights in his room are for show. It kills Ben all over again to know that, if he were still alive, he probably wouldn’t know any of this about Klaus either.

“No, no, no, no,” Klaus whispers, a sob in his voice. “Please leave me alone, I’m begging you…” He curls tighter into himself, his breathing quickens.

Diego sits up, frowning deeply. “Klaus?” he says. Of course, Klaus can’t tell the difference in this state between Diego’s voice and the dozens of others around him. Klaus brings shaking hands up to his ears and holds tight. He squeezes his eyes shut, his breathing quickens and shallows. The heart monitor would be screaming at them if Diego hadn’t muted it.

“Please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” Klaus begs. The spirits just scream louder, press in closer. The whole room has noticed he can hear them and they all, dozens of them, crowd round and howl his name over and over and over. “I can’t…”

Ben stands close, ready for Klaus to jolt awake and search for him.

But Diego leans in. He pulls Klaus’ hands away from clawing at his ears, presses his own into one of them and the other onto his elbow, squeezing gently, tethering him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’m right here, I got you.”

Ben almost cries when Klaus _stops_.

He stops murmuring, stops the panic rising. He leans into Diego’s touch and the tension pools out of him like Diego’s just flicked a switch. He doesn’t wake up shouting and reaching for his empty stash of drugs like he’s done every night the past few months. The spirits are still screeching, but Klaus clutches Diego’s hand like a lifeline and settles down despite them. The heart monitor slows and his breathing evens out.

Ben can’t believe that’s all it took, and it’s the one thing he can’t do. But he tries not to dwell, just watches in awe as Diego eases the tension out of Klaus with just his hands until he looks almost relaxed. Eventually the spirits quieten once they realise he’s not responding to them anymore.

Diego doesn’t have a clue of the magnitude of what he just did, what this means for Klaus.

* * *

He wakes an hour later. Seems that even Diego can’t keep the nightmares away forever, but it sure as hell helped, for a while at least.

Klaus wakes with a gasp all of a sudden, startling Diego almost off his chair. Diego recovers quickly and leans forward as Klaus crumbles into himself again, either from the pain or the spirits looming over him continuing their torment now that he’s awake, or both.

“Hey, bro,” Diego says, squeezing Klaus’ hand. “How you feeling?”

Klaus squints at him, then up at Ben, confused. “You passed out and hit your head. They took you to medical,” Ben supplies gently. Klaus nods and, of course, tries to get up. And of course, fails. He’s as weak as a kitten and his arms won’t hold him up for more than a second.

“Hey, hey, whoa,” Diego says, patting his shoulder to keep him down. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, just- just lay there and chill. You want anything? Water?”

Klaus yields and settles back down, tugging his robe tighter round himself. “I’m good,” he murmurs.

Ben clears his throat. “You sure about that?”

Klaus spares him a glance, gets the picture. “Actually, uh, it’s- it’s bright. Too bright.” Ben nods in approval.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Diego says, practically leaping from the chair to flick the light switch. The room dims to almost nothing and Ben winces, knowing this type of dark isn’t good for Klaus, but Diego thankfully heads to the window and tugs open the blind, flooding them with grey light. “Better?” he asks.

“Much,” Klaus says, sighing in relief. “Where are the others?” he says once Diego sits again.

“Sent them away. Didn’t want it too crowded in here when you woke up.”

Klaus meets Ben’s eyes past the spirits surrounding them and Ben scoffs.

“Thanks, Diego,” Klaus says anyway.

“We, uh, we gave you same painkillers and fluids but don’t know if the painkillers will have much effect, ‘cause of… you know.”

Klaus nods. Ben can see clearly from the way his eyes crinkle at the edges and the tension in his shoulders that the painkillers haven’t even touched him, but Klaus doesn’t tell Diego that.

Diego pauses, his eyes raking over Klaus’ face. “Do you want me to go? I understand if you do, or I can get Luther to bring you to your room?”

Klaus frowns and shakes his head minutely. “It’s okay, Diego. All good.” One of the spirits at the head of the bed begins sobbing, begging Klaus for mercy he can’t grant, help he can’t give. Klaus winces, hand clawing into the bed for a second.

“It doesn’t seem like it’s okay, bro,” Diego says quietly.

Klaus sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s only then that he notices the IV trailing out of the sleeve of his robe, the clip on his finger leading to the heart monitor. All of the spirits in the room have noticed Klaus can see them now and they shriek his name over and over, like they always do, and all Klaus can do is bear it, like he always has to. Ben can’t tell what he’s thinking. Despite being joined at the hip for over a decade, he still hasn’t fully figured his brother out, especially not in his rare quiet moments. All he knows is that Klaus is suffering, Diego is right there, and they’re so close.

“Come on, Klaus, he’s listening,” Ben says lowly, scared of breaking the spell. Klaus bites his lip.

One of the spirits lets out a long, loud, agonised wail and it pushes Klaus that last inch over the edge. He cringes from the sound and squeezes Diego’s hand. “They’re so loud, Diego,” he breathes, like he can’t believe he’s actually saying it out loud, finally.

Ben’s heart is in his throat hoping Diego doesn’t screw this up and throw them all back to square one. “’They’?”

“The dead,” Klaus breathes.

“Are they here now?” Diego asks, eyes flickering around.

“Diego, they’re—” Klaus’ voice cracks, eyes flickering from one spirit to the other, looming over him, surrounding him like vultures. “They’re always here. They never leave me alone, they never have. Just… screaming non-stop as if I- as if I can help, or do _anything_ for them.”

Diego opens his mouth a few times, watches as Klaus flinches away from the spirits he doesn’t know are screaming at him, but it takes him a while to find the words. “I didn’t know that,” he settles on, his voice low. “You can’t turn it off? Block them out?”

Klaus smiles sadly. “Never.” He winces as one of the spirits, an old man with no eyes standing over him opposite Ben, howls at the top of his lungs. “Only way to shut them up was drugs.”

It’s like he just punched Diego in the face.

“Drugs,” Diego repeats, his eyes wide like suddenly everything makes sense. “That’s- that’s why?” Klaus swallows, nods. Ben daren’t breathe. He’s been waiting for this moment since the day Klaus started using all those years ago. Someone to finally realise what he’s going through, someone who can actually help. Diego runs a hand through his hair, staring at Klaus like he’s seeing him for the first time in years. “ _Shit_ ,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” Klaus says.

“No, it’s not,” Diego says, and Ben couldn’t agree more. “Jesus, Klaus, I had no idea. All this time… you’ve been using since we were _kids_.”

“’M sorry,” Klaus murmurs, shrinking slightly.

Diego clutches Klaus’ hand with both of his. “No, no, no. Y-you’ve got nothing to apologise for. _I’m_ sorry, Klaus, I’m so sorry. We all-” He stares down at the bed, doesn’t meet Klaus’ eyes. “We all thought you did it for attention.”

Klaus sighs. “Yeah, I know. But look, it’s really okay. I didn’t tell you guys. The only one who knew was Ben, and that’s just because I can’t hide _anything_ from him.”

“W-w-” Diego starts and stops abruptly, pressing his mouth shut. He swallows thickly and Klaus squeezes his hand tighter, waiting without judgement, as always. “Why w-wouldn’t you tell us?”

Klaus just shrugs. Doesn’t answer. Ben gives him a look, which he ignores. They both know exactly why he wouldn’t seek out help from anyone, ranging from problems like how neither of them knew if their siblings would even care, or believe him, to Klaus simply being too high to consider anything else, to Klaus truly not believing he was deserving of help. But, Ben supposes, those issues can be unpacked another day.

“I’m sorry we made you feel like you can’t come to us for help.”

“No, don’t be,” Klaus murmurs, because he’s too kind. Ben has no problem admitting that if he was in Klaus’ shoes, he wouldn’t be so forgiving all the time.

Diego has that look Ben knows Klaus hates; the one that means someone’s seen through his facade to the real, messed up, traumatised and scared Klaus underneath. If it were on anyone else’s face, Ben has no doubt that Klaus would be leaping off the bed and running, cracking jokes the whole way. But this is Diego. Klaus stays. Diego draws in a shaky breath and says, “We screwed up, big time, and it’s _not_ okay. But it’s gonna be. We won’t let you down again, and no matter what we- we’ll help you with your powers just like how we’re helping Vanya, if you’ll let us.”

Ben beams. Klaus catches his eye and he nods so vigorously he would’ve hurt his head if he was alive.

A thousand emotions flicker through Klaus’ eyes in the seconds it takes him to answer. He’s not used to this. Since before Ben died Klaus had been made to suck it up and shut up or risk getting forced into the mausoleum again. That, Ben discovered, is a lesson Klaus has never unlearned. No one had helped him any of those times, so why should he ever hope for it? Nevermind trusting anyone to _want_ to help him. But now all the overdoses, the countless escapes out of rehab, all the jokes and the half-truths and the outright lies covering up his mental state, every single ghost he’s drowned out with poison, all those years with only his demons and Ben for company - it all comes down to this moment. If he can finally, _finally_ , accept the help he desperately needs. Ben holds his breath.

“Yeah,” Klaus breathes, his shoulders relaxing like the word pulled the weight from them. “Yeah, okay.”

Diego smiles. He reaches out and lays a hand on Klaus’ arm, squeezes gently. Klaus looks calmer than Ben has seen him in _months_. The spirits around them, blocked by Diego, are barely making him flinch even when they scream; all it takes is Diego’s touch to keep him from spiralling back down into terror, keep them from overwhelming him. “Try get some rest, yeah? I’ll still be here when you wake up,” Diego says, and settles back into his chair, one hand clutching Klaus’.

Ben sighs in relief. Maybe, with Diego and the others finally seeing the truth about Klaus, what Ben’s had to see for the past decade or so, they’ll be able to help. Maybe Klaus won’t have to suffer in silence, with no one but Ben to stand by and watch on unable to do anything, any longer. Maybe they’ll finally understand him.

Maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be okay.


End file.
